


strangers on a plane

by blueuniform



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, M/M, airport
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-04
Updated: 2014-06-05
Packaged: 2018-02-03 10:09:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1740812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueuniform/pseuds/blueuniform
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"This is my brother, Dean. Dean, this is Castiel. I met him on the plane." </p><p>or </p><p>Sam and Castiel meet on the plane and, when offered a lift by the Winchesters, Castiel finds himself ending up being a bit too attached to one of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The plane lands on the landing strip with a graceless thump, causing Castiel's fellow passengers to grumble as they rearrange themselves in their seats. A bored, female voice comes on on the speaker system, asking them to stay in their chairs until the seatbelt sign has been switched off. Castiel obeys this instruction, observing as disgruntled passengers try to subtly click off their seatbelts without alerting their cabin crew. 

The man sleeping next to Castiel is still deep in slumber, head flopping back to be caressed by the plane seats. He's attractive, Castiel thinks, his face young and his hair soft looking. Castiel turns away, not wanting the man to wake up and catch Castiel studying him. 

Slowly, the plane rolls to a stop in front of the terminal and the passengers start angrily clicking their seatbelts off. A few stand up to wrestle their suitcases from the overhead lockers, some making eye contact with Castiel, before quickly turning away when he stares straight back at them. 

Castiel waits as they all file out, preferring to make his own way out without having to queue for ages and also saving him from displaying the tedious manners of letting other passengers leave their seats before him - when do you stop letting them through?

Finally, when only a family of four are left stumbling down the aisle of the plane, Castiel starts to raise himself up from the chair. When he's up and taking his battered backpack out of the locker, he notices that the sleeping man next to him still hasn't woken up. He glances up and down the plane, making eye contact with an irritated air hostess who just wants him to get the hell off the plane already. He gives her a small but apologetic smile before turning back to the man. 

He doesn't know whether to leave him there or not but, in the end, decides to spare the man of the embarrassment of having to be woken up by the cabin crew and then scarpering into the airport. 

He reaches his arm out to shake the man's bicep. When he still doesn't wake up, Castiel gently places his own backpack down onto the seat so he can use two hands to shake the man awake. 

"Sir," he says, jostling the man lightly. "Sir, it's time to get up now." The man just snuffles lightly, head lolling so Castiel tries one more time. "Sir!"

The man jolts awake, arms coming up to cover his face to protect himself from God knows whatever he was expecting. His eyes blink blearily at Castiel and he slowly lowers his arms as a smile curves his lips. 

"Sorry," he says. "I'm a bit of a heavy sleeper." When Castiel doesn't say anything, he continues with a note of confusion in his voice. "What did you want?"

"Oh," Castiel says, "it's the end. We're here." He gestures around the empty plane as if to prove that they have, indeed, landed and not that everyone decided to throw themselves out of the plane. 

The man sits up, eyes darting about and taking in the empty seats. Castiel notices that the guy is actually rather tall. He didn't need to shift much in order to see over the tops of the seats and, now that Castiel's looking, he sees that his legs were bent uncomfortably in order to fit inside the cramped space between the seat and the next chair. The man is a giant. 

"That looks," Castiel says, gesturing at the man's legs. "Uncomfortable."

The passenger stares down at his own legs, as if checking to see whether Castiel was pretending about them existing, before letting out a small chuckle. He glances up. "Yeah, wasn't too great but as soon as they went to sleep, I followed."

Castiel smiles at him, appreciating the joke. The man makes an 'after you' gesture at him and Castiel steps back hurriedly, noticing that he'd been blocking the exit from the seats by inspecting the guy and his legs. Great.

Castiel feels a little bit embarrassed. It's not that he's ashamed of being caught staring because that's in his nature and so many people have caught him doing it before, but it's just that the man may jump to the (entirely logical) conclusion that Castiel was watching him sleeping or that he was a pervert of long legs. Which Castiel wasn't. Either of those things.

Castiel sets off down the aisle after giving the man a quick good bye smile (what else do you do to a man who may think that you were maybe watching him whilst he was sleeping?). 

"Hey, wait up!"

He turns to find the man stumbling out of his seat and grabbing his backpack from beneath his chair, all whilst staring at Castiel with inappropriately pleading eyes. They were appropiate eyes to use to convince someone not to murder your family, not to stop a stranger from getting off a plane. 

"No wonder your legs were cramped. You of all people would've needed the extra leg space and yet you decided to limit the already small space with a backpack," Castiel jokes, a smile tugging his lips. "And it's not like it'd be a struggle to reach the overhead lockers for you." He gestures to the man's long legs and then points to the lockers, which the man could easily reach without even having to extend his arms properly. 

"Yeah," the man laughs, staring at the spot where his bag once sat. "Good point." He slung his backpack over one shoulder and continued picking his way towards Castiel. "Dean always says I'm the brains of the family but it's times like these when I get reminded that I may not be." He doesn't seem offended, Castiel observes. Just amused and slightly... fond?

"Dean?" Castiel asks, at a loss of how to reply. It's not like he could say, 'no, I'm sure you're not, I'm sure you're a genius' because Castiel has only known this man for roughly two hours, and an hour and fifty minutes of that time was spent with the other guy being asleep. 

"My brother," Long Legs explains. "He's here to pick me up."

This sentence seems to have reminded the man that he has a place to be and that place was not an aeroplane, with a strange man, surrounded by pissed off flight attendants. 

Castiel nods in reply to the man's explanation and sets off towards the front of the plane. He passes seats of a dark blue colour, tapping them with his fingers as he walks past them. 

"Thank you for flying with American Airways," says the flight attendant, all fake smiles that hide the fact that she wants to strangle Castiel for keeping her waiting for so long. "I hope you enjoyed the trip!"

Castiel smiles tightly at her and hears the man trailing behind him say a bright, "thank you!"

They step off the plane together, hair whipping into the tall man's face as they make their way down the rickety staircase and towards the terminal. They're walking in companionable silence until the man says abruptly, "sorry, I haven't introduced myself. My name's Sam." He offers a hand out which Castiel awkwardly shakes, mid-walk. 

"Castiel," he replies. 

The man - Sam - nods as if he's processing this. They walk on a bit further, pointing out signs to each other with directions on to the baggage reclaim with small snippets of conversation being shared between them. Castiel isn't a very chatty person and, usually, that offends people because they assume that he isn't enjoying their company. Sam, on the other hand, whilst being a friendly person, still appreciates the quiet Castiel has to offer and doesn't seem the least bit insulted by his short replies. Castiel likes him already. 

"So," Castiel starts, deciding he should initiate a conversation with this kind man for once. "Have you travelled here for a holiday?"

"Nah," the man replies, shifting his backpack with his hand. "Well, sort of. I've come home from school and I'm staying with my brother during my break. You?"

"Just travelling," Castiel replies with a nod. "It's my first time."

"Oh?" Sam replies, lightly tapping Castiel on the shoulder and silently pointing out that Castiel had started down the corridor in the wrong direction. "On your own?"

"Yes," Castiel replies, rotating to follow Sam down the right passage. 

"Where you thinking about going?"

"Just around," Castiel shrugs. 

"You know how you gonna get there?"

"I have a vague idea," Castiel confesses. "I was thinking about hiring a car and going from there. Maybe stay in a few motels."

"So just a roadtrip then?" Sam clarifies. 

"Of sorts," Castiel replies, with a smile. 

They lapse into silence again and find themselves turning a corner into the baggage reclaim. They head towards the only conveyor belt left turning, noticing two solitary bags circulating on the belt about ten metres apart from one another. It's a pathetic sight. 

They quickly walk up to the belt, pulling their cases off quickly. Sam's is a dark green duffel bag which looks quite worn and torn, the handles looking as if they're only staying attached to the main body of the bag by a lone thread. Castiel's own bag is a pitch black suitcase, very practical and very invisible. Thank God it was the only one left on the belt otherwise Castiel would've had a hard time trying to spot which case was his amongst all the other bags that probably looked identical. So, on second thoughts, perhaps the bag isn't quite as practical as Castiel had presumed it would be. 

Having collected their bags, they set off towards the arrivals gate where Sam's brother is meant to be meeting him. They chat nearly all the way, Castiel finding himself opening up to this near stranger and exchanging life experiences with each other. Castiel learns that Sam's father and mother had perished when Sam was only six months old and that Sam's had time to get over their deaths and, in turn, Castiel explains about his own family, his absent father and his disagreeable siblings. They talk about the Law course Sam is currently taking and about how his father used to run a mechanics business that Dean now runs and Castiel tells Sam about how he never really had a life plan and how he just used to promise himself, late at night when he could hear his elder brothers fighting, that as soon as he'd turn twenty, he'd leave home and go travelling. And that's how he's come to travelling on this plane alone. 

After a couple of minutes, they turn into the pick-up room, where a couple of people are standing, some eating, some staring at boards, others just waiting to be told which gates they are supposed to go to. Castiel assumes one of the men standing there is Sam's brother. 

"Finally!" A deep voice yells near them and Castiel turns around only to have all the air knocked out of his lungs. 

Castiel knows it isn't rational but the only explanation his brain can offer him is that Castiel is standing in the presence of a God. A God is walking towards him, all golden skin, white teeth being put on show by a dizzying smile. The man walks with such confidence, long, strong legs clad in faded jeans and Castiel is pretty sure he can see _bow legs_. Castiel is positive he's never found bow legs sexy before but - wow. The man (God?) is still walking towards them and now that he's close, Castiel can see his muscled torso, strong arms. Even closer, Castiel can see a sharp jawline. The man stops in front of them and Castiel takes in a shuddering breath, wondering what on Earth this man is doing in front of him. 

"Castiel?" Sam says, volume already quite high the way someone's voice gets when they've been repeating someone's name for too long. Castiel turns to look at Sam dazedly. "You alright?" 

"Fine," Castiel replies and he cringes inwardly when he realises his voice came out just short of a squeak. Sam gives him an odd look but decides to ignore Castiel's apparent and sudden reversal to pre-puberty vocal chords. 

"As I was saying," Sam carries on with a pointed look. "This is my brother, Dean. Dean, this is Castiel. I met him on the plane." 

Castiel looks at Dean calmly whilst dying of humiliation inside. It turns out that the God that Castiel momentarily turned his insides into goo over was not, in fact, a God but just a man. And it's not like Castiel could just avoid said man after his apparent breakdown because it was Sam's _brother_ and that would just seem so rude. God, Castiel wants to die. What if he drooled? God, he didn't drool did he?

"Hey, nice to meet you," Dean drawls and _Christ_ even his voice is perfect, like deep chocolate that Castiel just wants to lick -

"Hey, I'm Castiel," says Castiel, awkwardly and redundantly. 

Dean laughs, a beautifully warm sound and really, how pathetic is Castiel being, he should just bring out the harps already and sing to Dean. 

"Yeah, I know," Dean says and Castiel mentally face-palms himself. Sam just introduced them and now Castiel has gone and reintroduced himself. Pathetic. Bring a handsome guy into Castiel's vision and suddenly he loses all sense of normality and turns into a blissful pile of slime. Castiel wants to hide. This is even worse than when he thought that Sam thought that Castiel was staring at his legs for the whole plane flight. Because at least Castiel knew he hadn't been doing that but now he knows that Dean knows that he just had a mental breakdown over his face. And now Castiel's thoughts don't even make sense to him. Castiel doesn't lift his gaze from the ground, convinced his face is a bright shade of red.

Silence falls on all of them and, as cliché as it sounds, Castiel would really love it if the ground would swallow him up.

“So,” Sam starts. “Dean. I was wondering if maybe we could take Castiel with us? Just to drop him off somewhere. Saves him the trouble of hiring a car.”

Castiel’s head snaps up just about the same time as Dean says, “Er…”

“No no no,” Castiel says quickly. “Seriously, it’s okay. I don’t want to be a bother-“

“You wouldn’t be a bother!” Sam interrupts.

“No, thank you, I’m fine, I’ve already got my eye on a 1978 Lincoln Continental that looked quite nice-“

“That’s out of the question, you’d save so much money if you came-“

“Guys, guys,” Dean says loudly, covering up their voices with his own. Castiel’s mouth shuts up before his brain realises he has stopped talking, leaving Sam to protest some more. Sam only stops arguing when Dean gives him a look and then, oh, he’s turning back to Castiel.

“Look, man, I know we’ve only just met but if you want to come with us, it’s fine. We have more than enough space in the car and if Sam says you’re his friend, then that’s cool with me.”

Castiel opens his mouth to say that the ride isn’t necessary but Dean interrupts, again. “Unless you have something against me?”

Castiel flushes and stammers out that he has nothing against Dean, at all, but then bites his tongue when he notices the smirk on Dean’s face. How lovely. A joke that just went completely over Castiel’s head.

Truth is, Castiel doesn’t want to ride in Sam and Dean’s car because, one, he’s already made a huge fool of himself in front of Dean and spending more time with him just promises further embarrassment and, two, it would be unfair because he doesn’t actually know where he’s going. Forcing these boys to drive him to a place he hasn’t yet decided upon seems a bit cruel – they could be cruising for hours trying to find a motel to fit Castiel’s preference. What if they look around for too long and they end up hating him, regretting inviting him along in the first place?

Castiel tries one more time to deny but Sam lets out a huff, placing his left hand on Castiel’s shoulder as if sensing Castiel’s weakening resolve.

“How about this. Castiel, if you don’t come with us, we’ll be mortally offended,” he tries.

Castiel looks to the side, mouth twisting slightly and Sam takes this as a sign that he’s unconvinced, so he tries one more time. This time, turning a little bit more threatening.

“Castiel. If you don’t come in the car with us, then we’ll have you know that we have guns and the trunk of Dean’s car is roughly your size.”  
Castiel looks up in alarm at this dangerous statement but registers Sam’s mischievous grin and the shocked humour in Dean’s eyes. He lets out a short laugh. Who knows, these men could be killers but Castiel really wouldn’t peg Sam as the type.

“Okay,” Castiel relents, smiling back at a beaming Sam. “But any kidnapping business and I’m telling my Mom.”

Dean laughs once and Sam stares between them, happiness in his eyes. Really, the kid hasn’t suffered enough if a stranger accepting a ride home makes him that ridiculously happy.

* * *

After a quick trip to the toilet, Castiel, Sam, and Dean find themselves navigating through the crowded car park of the airport. They walk past rusty BMWs, screaming children, and bickering parents, carefully avoiding crashing their bags into any of the passing cars. Castiel spends his time trying to guess which car is Sam and Dean’s to keep his eyes from wandering over and gluing themselves on the shape of Dean’s arse through his jeans. They aren’t even tight and yet Castiel can see the outline through them and – Castiel trips over his bag, the case coming to bite into his heels as if it knows what Castiel’s thinking. He resolves to keep his gaze steadily on the ground in front of him. 

Shortly, they arrive next to a long, black car, its bonnet shining in the brilliance of the sun. As Dean walks around it, he lets his fingers trail over the paintwork and Castiel’s eyes zero in on his hands – strong hands. 

“She’s a beauty, huh?” Dean says to him.

“Yes. She is,” Castiel replies, looking down at the window and seeing his own pathetic reflection staring back at him.

“She was our Dad’s, before he gave her to me. Best damn decision he’s ever made, in my opinion,” Dean states, tapping the door. 

“Shotgun!” Sam yells next to Castiel, causing him to jump. He said it hurriedly, as if it wasn’t something he was used to doing and like he was worried that Castiel would slide in the front before Sam got the chance to. Castiel doesn’t know why he bothered – he’s eager to put as much distance between himself and Dean as he can.

“Sure,” Castiel replies, slipping into the backseat and receiving a shoulder slap from Sam. Maybe he was imagining it, but he could’ve sworn he saw a brief flash of disappointment cross Dean’s face. However, when Castiel turns back to look at him, Dean’s face is happy, no sign of any disappointment anywhere. What was Castiel thinking, it’s not like Dean’s going to break down in tears if someone he met less than half an hour ago doesn’t sit next to him.

They pull out of the car park, Dean flirting briefly with the female ticket inspector and causing Castiel’s stomach to do a weird burn sort of feeling. When they get onto the interstate, Sam relaxes, letting out a yawn.

“Man, am I tired.”

“You slept on the plane,” Castiel reminds Sam with a roll of his eyes.

“Oh, yeah, you’d know that little fact well since you were watching me.” Huh, so Sam _did_ think Castiel was watching him sleep. 

“I was _not_ watching you. I was being a helpful citizen.”

“Sure, Castiel.”

“No flirting in the car, boys,” Dean says from the front, tone playful but slightly clipped and Castiel notices his hands tighten on the steering wheel of the car.

“We weren’t flirting,” Castiel reassures him quickly.

Dean makes a noncommittal noise, flicking a glance at Castiel in the mirror, before returning his attention to his driving.

They lapse into silence again, Castiel staring at the back of Dean’s head. Dean tries to put on some music but Sam slaps his hand away from the cassette player before he can slip one in, claiming that he ‘can’t sleep with that racket on.’ Dean purses his lips but doesn’t comment, returning his hands to the steering wheel. Castiel doesn’t know Dean, had only met him an hour ago, and yet he can tell something is wrong – Dean doesn’t strike him as the type to stay silent.

A short while down the interstate, Castiel hears small, snuffling noises coming from the seat Sam has curled himself up in. His head rests on the window and he looks incredibly peaceful, a small smile settling itself comfortably on his face, legs folded and arms under his head. Castiel watches as Dean flicks Sam an affectionate glance. Their eyes meet in Dean’s rear-view mirror and Castiel senses a hardening in Dean’s eyes.

“So,” Dean says, then stops.

“So,” Castiel repeats.

“How did you meet my brother?” Dean’s tone isn’t accusatory or mean, just curious.

“I sat next to him on the plane. We met afterwards because he was the only one left in the cabin and I felt I had the duty to wake him up.”

“Oh?” Dean’s voice filled with surprise. “You didn’t talk during the plane journey at all?”

Castiel racks his brains. “No, I don’t think so. I mean, he leaned over me when the food trolley came round and apologised for being in my personal space. I told him I didn’t mind. But that’s the only time he spoke to me, I think.”

“Oh yeah, I bet you didn’t mind,” Castiel hears Dean mumble.

“I’m sorry?” he asks. 

“Nothing, nothing,” Dean answers, with a wave of his hand. 

Castiel furrows his brow in confusion, watching the rear-view mirror for any signs on Dean’s face that could clue him in to what the hell he was talking about. He doesn’t see any.

“So, where abouts are you headed?” Dean asks to break what has suddenly become a very frosty silence.

“I’m not sure yet. Just wanted to get away.”

Dean nods as if he understands what Castiel’s going through. “Me and Sam always wanted to get away.”

“Yeah?” Castiel says.

“Yeah. Dad wanted us to get into his business and I did, but he’s gone now and Sam and I just wanted to drive, you know. See places. So we did and then Sam got into his school and everything just sort of-“ Dean breaks off, waving his hand in the air as if to indicate a wind.

Castiel nods as if he understands.

After that, Dean sort of lets down his guard. They discuss music, films, family. They stray towards the topic of past lovers but they don’t dwell too long in it, as they find it fills the conversation with tense silence so they prefer to discuss something neutral and non-provocative: like Kansas. They talk a lot about Dean and Sam’s hometown. From the sound of it, it seems like a lovely place and Castiel begins to wonder what their house looks like. He shakes himself mentally, reminding himself that he’s just a passenger, closer to a stranger than a friend. He doesn’t even know their last names. 

Before long, they drive into Kansas, Castiel craning his neck around to take in his surroundings. It looks like a happy but quiet town and Castiel catches Dean watching him in the mirror.

“What?” he asks.

“Nothing,” Dean says. “You just… look nice when you smile.”

“Oh,” Castiel says, looking down at his lap and trying to hide his blush.

He carries on playing with his hands in his lap until he feels the car slow down, a soft rumble signifying the cutting off of the engine. He glances up to where Dean is staring at a motel sign as if he wants to burn it with his gaze.

“’Sandra’s Motel’,” Dean reads aloud, before turning back to face Castiel. “I’ve stayed here once before, when I was young. It’s pretty decent. At least, I hope it still is.”

Castiel feels a sinking feeling in his gut that he tries to hide from coming up and displaying itself in his eyes. 

“Oh yes,” he says feebly. Now that he’s in the car, with Dean (and Sam), he doesn’t really want to leave. He didn’t realise how lonely his life on the road really was and, despite the awkward silences provided by Sam’s unconscious state, he still felt comfortable with Dean. Stupid, Castiel thinks. Sam and Dean spent so long trying to get him into the car and now he doesn’t want to go. It’s pathetic.

“Cas?” Dean says, peering up at him.

Castiel starts, smile twitching into the corners of his mouth when he registers that Dean’s already given him a nickname – an affectionate nickname, at that. Guess that means they could be friends? Right?

“Yes, yes, sorry,” Castiel mumbles, fumbling with the door and pushing himself out. He gets up to find Dean also stepping out of his car, coming round to face him. They meet at the trunk of the car.

Dean opens it without looking at Castiel. They both reach in to pick out Castiel’s suitcase, their hands meeting on the way. Castiel flinches back in surprise and catches a look of hurt on Dean’s face, before it’s quickly smoothed back into its usual smile. (Usual? He’s known the man for only four hours.)

“Chill out, Cas, I’ve already taken my leprosy medication.”

Castiel cracks a smile and sticks his hand out for Dean to shake. 

“So did I,” he replies weakly, cringing at his attempt to make a joke.

Dean takes it and Castiel feels a warmness in his fingers, before Dean pulls him roughly into a quick hug, his arm coming around to grip him tightly from the back. Castiel’s breath leaves him with a small gush of air and his fingers flinch violently when he realises his hand is pressing against the (very firm) muscles of Dean’s stomach. 

“Oh,” he says and, before he can even enjoy the hug, Dean’s pulling back, a sheepish look guarding his features.

“Yeah,” Dean says, voice gruff.

“Thank you for driving me here,” Castiel says, gesturing to the motel behind him.

“Yeah,” Dean repeats awkwardly. 

“I had a great time,” Castiel tells him, ignoring how much he sounds like a teenage girl after her first date.

“Yeah,” Dean says for a third time, before other words seem to surface from his vocabulary and drift to his brain. “I’ll see you around, Cas. Thanks for taking care of Sammy.”

“No problem, Dean,” Castiel says in a small voice, watching as Dean gets into the car after giving him one small smile. The red breaking lights at the back of the car switch on and Castiel steps back. The sound of a rumbling engine fills the air and the car pulls out, taking his new acquaintances with it. Castiel watches it until it rounds the corner, before he turns in a small circle to take in the feebly glowing light of the motel sign.

‘Vacancies,’ it reads and Castiel lets out a small sigh, setting off down the gravel pathway with his suitcase rattling around behind him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm not usually such a quick poster but i really don't want to get on with my responsibilities. i hope you enjoy!

The drive back to their home is silent, Sam still unconscious to the world and Dean steadfastly trying to think of nothing. The interstate stretches out before them, the black tarmac beckoning them and the Impala’s wheels smooth against it. The further and further they slip away from Cas, the more and more he sits at the front of Dean’s mind.

Dean doesn’t know why he likes him so much – he’s always had a habit of crushing on the unattainable. Cas is _clearly_ more interested in Sam, for all the right reasons. Sam has a good education, he’s funny, kind, attractive in a ‘I’m closer to the giraffe family than the human’ sort of way. Dean doesn’t have any of those qualities. Well, okay no, he has one or two. He knows he’s hilarious. The main thing is, is that Cas looks respectable and like he appreciates intelligence which Dean can’t really offer up in spades like Sam can. Life’s cruel. There seemed to be a few moments when Dean really thought that Cas was interested in him. 

“Oh, shut up,” Sam groans, voice rumbling and raspy from sleep. 

Dean flinches in surprise. “I wasn’t saying anything!”

“You were thinking, it’s –“

“If you quote Sherlock one more time, I’ll leave you on the side of the road to deduce your way home.”

Sam lets out a bleary laugh, rearranging himself in his seat into a more comfortable position. He scrubs over his face, blinking a few times.

“How far away are we?”

“Just a couple miles.”

Sam nods, turning round to look at the back of the car.

“Sorry, Castiel –“ he begins, before cutting himself off. “Hey, where’s Castiel?”

The panic in his voice is quite funny – does he really think Dean would boot Cas from his car?

“We disagreed over music tastes. I left him on the interstate with three dollars and a cheese sandwich.”

“Haha, Dean,” Sam says, reproachfully. “Where is he?”

“I dropped him off.”

“Where?”

“At Sandra’s motel.”

“The place you first lost your virginity? Nice, Dean. Subtle. Bet you didn’t tell him that part of the story.”

Dean splutters. “How do you know that?”

“It’s the only thing you talked about for the next couple of years.”

Dean laughs, bringing his hand up to clip the back of Sam’s head. “Shut up, no it wasn't.”

They sit in silence for a while, watching the sky grow steadily darker, opening up to a myriad of stars. The rumble of the car engine is soothing and Dean loses himself in thoughts of motels and girls with long legs.

“Turn around.”

“What?” Dean asks, bewildered at being pulled so abruptly from his thoughts. 

“Turn around,” Sam repeats.

Dean turns halfway in his seat, peering into the back. “What, did Cas leave something?” If Sam noticed the nickname, he doesn’t mention it.

“No, Dean, _turn around_.”

“For God’s sake, Sammy, I can’t friggin’ turn around 180° when I’m _driving_. Unless you fancy being a pretzel around the trunk of some tree -”

Sam huffs in annoyance, gripping Dean’s arm. “No, I mean turn the bloody _car_ around, dimwit.”

“Oh,” Dean says slowly. “What? No.”

“Why not?”

“Because we’re minutes away from a warm, soft bed, that’s why.”

“I can’t believe how selfish you’re being.”

“How on Earth am I being selfish?” Dean yells, confusion making his voice climb into a higher pitch.

“Oh what, so you think it’s okay to pick up a guy, promise to take him somewhere nice and then you just drop him off like he’s garbage?”

“That’s what he wanted us to do!”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean we should!”

“God, you’re such a girl, Sammy,” Dean says, staring out of his windshield.

Silence for a couple of seconds. Dean doesn't look at Sam but he's positive he's spending these few seconds of quiet glaring at Dean. 

“Go back and get him," Sam orders.

“And take him where?”

“To our house.”

“What? Since when did we agree that!”

“We didn’t, but our house is better than freaking _’Sandra’s Motel’_.”

“The guy doesn’t even know us, Sam, he freaked out when you asked to give him a lift!”

“Well, I think he’s our friend,” Sam says in a quiet tone, staring down at his hands. “If you don’t want to drive back, then I will.”

“Fine, fine,” Dean says, putting his arm round the back of Sam’s seat so he could see which cars are behind him. None, so he spins the wheel, bringing the car right round. He could never say no to Sam, especially when Sam’s passionate enough about it to have an argument with him. Stupid man.

“Thanks, Dean.”

“It’s cool,” Dean sighs.

They drive on back, Dean experiencing a weird, reverse sort of déjà vu as he zooms past things he’d seen on the way there. He doesn’t know why he’s doing this, why’s he’s letting his brother do this. What if Cas thinks they’re overprotective, possessive freaks? On second thoughts, he’ll probably be happy to see Sam’s happy form on his doorstep. He’ll drag him in, all smiles and, ‘oh, Sam, you came back!’s, leaving Dean to scuffle his shoes on the ground outside. Cas probably won’t even notice Dean standing there and Dean’ll have to drive back alone anyway.

“Hey, quit scowling.”

“I’m not scowling,” Dean retorted.

“Yeah you are. You’re all tense like you want to shoot out of the windscreen,” Sam tells him.

“It’s just dark, it’s difficult to see at night,” Dean says feebly, his excuse sounding stupid even before it leaves his lips.

“Right,” Sam says in a tone of voice that drips with ‘I don’t believe you’. “Because we’ve never, _ever_ driven in the dark before.”

Dean just purses his lips in reply, staring at the road and tuning Sam out, wishing that the little bugger was still fast asleep. 

* * * 

Dean drives the Impala into the parking lot of the motel, the gravel crunching underneath her tires. Dean sits there for a second, car still in gear, wondering why on Earth he did this. He doesn’t owe anything to Castiel, he did exactly what he wanted him to. But he does owe something to Sam and, well, if Sam wants to come back and proclaim his love then he should. Dean should just sit back and let him take his man. He should let Sam be happy, Dean thinks bitterly. 

“So? You think we can ask for Castiel at reception without leaving the car?” Sam asks sarcastically, clearly referencing to the fact that Dean's making no move to get up.

“Who said anything about me leaving the car?” Dean says, looking at him.

When Sam starts to protest, Dean interrupts him. “Look, I didn’t say anything about getting Cas – tiel back (great going, Dean, now that’s even more obvious, he thinks), you were the one who wanted to swoop in, Prince Charming-like, and take him home.”

“What’s up with you, Dean?” Sam asks, shock in his voice. 

“Nothing, nothing. You go in, have some fun. I’ll stay here, kip in the back.” Even Dean could hear the sourness in his voice.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Dean. But come on. Let’s go get him before he unpacks too much of his stuff.”

“I’m not going.”

“Dean!” Sam says. “Come on! Quit being pathetic. It’s embarrassing to think you’re the older one.”

“Hey,” Dean whines, planting himself more firmly in his chair. 

“Ugh,” Sam groans, leaving the car angrily and making it shake. Dean allows himself a small smile of satisfaction. That is, until Sam comes round, wrenches open Dean’s door and lets all the cold air in. 

“Ah!” Dean says. “I’m cold, idiot!”

“Let’s get inside as quick as we can, then,” Sam says with a fake smile.

“Just quit it, Sam, I don’t know why you want me to come with you. You’re a big boy, you can do it yourself.”

Sam ignores that last part. “I want you to come with me so that Castiel doesn’t think you’re the rudest ass in America. Now get.” He shoves his thumb in the direction of the motel doorway, where a pathetic, yellow light is spilling out onto the concrete. He’s glaring at Dean.

“Just let me be,” Dean says tiredly. He tries to pull his door shut but Sam leans his weight on it.

“No. I’m going to stand right here, letting the cold in, until you decide to move your fat butt into the motel reception.”

Dean glares at him, arms folded to conserve some heat. They have a rather epic glaring competition but in the end Sam wins, his jaw set tight. Dean blames his own accidental blink that ended the impromptu game on the fact that he’d started to shiver. 

“Fine,” he growls, throwing himself out of the car. He locks the car then walks across the car park sullenly, feet dragging and kicking a pebble. He realises he looks like a five year old who didn’t get his favourite flavour of ice cream but he’s too pissed off to care. Not only because Sam dragged him out, but now Dean is going to have to stand there awkwardly while the man he’d like to shag smiles dopily at his younger brother and, God Forbid, kisses him.

Together, they step into the motel, shoulders relaxing automatically when they feel the warmth of the place consume them.

“Hi,” Dean says, switching quickly into flirt mode. He lets a smile settle on his face and walks up to the pretty receptionist. “We’re looking for someone.”

“Anyone specific?” The pretty girl replies, biting her lip. Her name tag reads the name ‘Cassie’. Lovely, what a great reminder. Dean doesn’t let his smile falter. 

“That’d be great. Name of Castiel.”

She smiles at him, pushing her chest up slightly as she stares at her screen, clicking away. 

“Oh, yes,” she says, looking back up at Dean. “He’s in Room 24, just over –“

“Dean?” comes a deep voice from behind them.

Dean whips round to see Cas standing there, coat in hand and looking rather lost. He’s staring at Dean with a confused expression. Dean watches as he tilts his head to the side and he curses himself as he realises that his own smile has gone from the fake-flirting one to one of pure delight as he takes in Cas’ form.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean says, warmly, before he remembers that Sam is standing right next to him.

“Sam,” Castiel says quickly, acknowledging Sam with a quick nod and smile as if he’d forgotten he was standing there. Or maybe he was just ignoring him for the time being – trying to work him up so that Sam was begging Cas for his attention. 

“Hey, are you settled in?” Sam asks him, taking a step towards Cas and pushing Dean’s back, forcing him to walk closer to Cas too. 

“No, I just left my coat and bag upstairs. I came down to make a call.” He turns to the receptionist, as if worried she'd take his unpacking as a sign that he doesn't like the motel. “It’s very nice, thank you.”

The receptionist blushes, her eyes darting between the three of them as if she can’t believe they’re all standing in front of her. Dean doesn’t know what’s going on. 

“Yeah, well,” Dean says, stumbling over his words. “You certainly saw us quicker than you were expecting.” He lets out a pathetic chuckle.

Cas laughs and then looks down at the floor. Well, this is awkward, Dean thinks.

He taps Sam on the shoulder, gesturing at Cas with a tilt of his head, silently conveying that Sam should do the talking. Sam scrunches his nose up but does what he’s told. 

Sam opens his mouth to address Cas, but Cas quickly asks, “What are you doing here?”

“We, er, we came back to ask whether you wanted to stay with us. Because Sandra’s isn’t exactly –“ He stops himself just in time, halting what was probably going to be an insult about the motel and he glances over at the receptionist. She didn’t seem to have noticed, too busy gazing at Castiel with what were basically heart eyes. 

“Oh,” Castiel asks, surprise written clearly on his features. “That’s really lovely of you but –“

“Hey, no buts,” Sam says, with a smile. “We used enough of those trying to convince you to let us drive you here.”

“Yes, and that’s all I really needed, thank you,” Castiel says, not unkindly.

“But we want you to come with us. We have a warm guest room, food. We bought some DVDs a week ago that we still haven’t watched. Come on, it’ll be fun.”  
Wow, Dean thinks, Sam is really desperate to see Cas again.

“Besides,” Sam continues, “Dean really wants to spend more time with you.”

Dean chokes on air, his head coming round to stare at Sam, his eyes round and bewildered. 

“What the hell, dude? I never said –“ Dean splutters but he’s cut off by Sam hitting him subtly but hard on his back.

Dean turns back to Castiel, who’s blushing, his hand fiddling with his hair and his feet shifting around on the floor. Dean can’t say he doesn’t want to spend more time with Cas because that’ll just sound rude but he can’t not say anything because then he’ll sound like a lovesick teenager. God, he’s going to kill Sam. What’s he even doing? Since when was ‘embarrass your brother in front of someone you both fancy in order to get the partner of your dreams’ in the Handbook of Love?

Dean glares up at Sam to find him making pleading eyes at Castiel. Dean doesn’t know what he’s playing at but if he keeps that up, Dean will make sure Sam has no eyes to plead with. 

Castiel is still staring between them but, when he makes eye contact with Sam, it’s like he sags in defeat. 

“Alright,” he says, sounding as if he’s just given permission for Sam and Dean to run over his favourite puppy. “I’ll go and get my things.” 

He turns to the receptionist. “Sorry for this, you can keep the money.”

And before Cassie can protest or comment, he turns and basically sprints away from Sam and Dean, towards what Dean assumes to be Room 24.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah um ah sorry if that wasn't too good, someone wanted dean POV so i tried to fill it. any feedback left, critical or not, would be really lovely. thank you for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> hey, feedback would be greatly appreciated, critical or otherwise :) i know it's frustrating to have such a short fic in chapters but i'm not a very keen or experienced writer so i prefer to post the work before i lose interest in it. i hope you enjoyed it and, if there's interest, i would like to continue it.


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